


I Think We Could Do It, If We Tried

by loserbumblebee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Established Relationship, F/M, Grief, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Heartache, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Trauma, sad George
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:00:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27639232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loserbumblebee/pseuds/loserbumblebee
Summary: George Weasley x Fem ReaderFollowing the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, you are flung into the responsibility of providing support for the Weasley family after the loss of Fred. You have long been established as George's girlfriend, but he has gone away since the death of his twin. Patient as you can possibly be, you continue to provide love and devotion to the family in their time of mourning. Six months have passed since you last had any contact with George and you are anxious to see him again. But - the question still dwells - what is waiting for you when he returns? Will things have changed since your time at Hogwarts where your budding romance was born? Will George be the same man he was when he left?
Relationships: George Weasley/Reader, George Weasley/You
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

It was dawn when your foot took its first step outside onto the cobblestone streets. A beam of sunlight soaked into your cheeks and nose. You took a sharp breath of cool air in and let it sink in your lungs before exhaling. Your hands were tucked neatly into the pockets of your large coat. You reminded yourself to unclench your tightly bound fists. You knew you could apparate. But the chilly air on the walk over to The Burrow was a nice way for you to start your morning. Before setting out on your venture, you double checked your bag to ensure that the homemade treacle tart was still intact and wrapped. With that reassurance, you made your way down the lane. 

Despite your early morning adventure, you felt rather exhausted. You had spent the better part of your evening hours scoping out Fred and George’s joke shop in hopes that you’d find George. You did this everyday. Since the war, he had not returned there. What more, he had not returned once to the small apartment you had shared with the twins. It felt emptier with just you. You had laid in your bed a multitude of lonely nights, just to turn over to a bare space that George was not occupying. To console the ache, you had taken to wrapping yourself in his favorite blanket and curling up rigidly. You filled the emptiness with soft music and wistful sighs. 

You yearned to be beside him again. You spent countless minutes, hours, days, weeks visiting the grieving home of the Weasley’s. You’d held Ginny close to your chest as she sobbed into your sweater. You’d squeezed Molly’s hand tightly. You had spent dozens of your afternoons letting Ron talk until he no longer could. Then the two of you would sit in silence together. You’d devoted so much support and love to their family, they almost felt like your own.  
Yet, George remained away. He detached himself from everybody, including you: his girlfriend of two years. After Fred died, George left just days after the war. You vowed to allow him all the space he needed to grieve, vowed to care for his family in every way you could, and vowed to wait for him to come home. That was six months ago. You recalled the last thing he said to you, a bag in his hand and a strained expression on his face, “I’ll be back when I can get my head straight again.” Then he’d kissed your forehead. You watched him disappear against the horizon. He didn’t write. 

The memory made your forehead - the exact spot he had last touched you - sear. Then the sensation traveled all throughout your body, to every single tiny piece of your flesh that he had ever touched. You all but welcomed the burn to encompass your body before trying to escape its hunger. Your brows furrowed at the recollection and you shook off the dull ache in your chest. The constant reminder that you yearned to be with George again. The last Molly had heard, he was trying his hand at ‘playing with dragons’ with Charlie. When she wrote Charlie about it, George had already departed from there too. This update came to you four months ago. Now, it was clear that George did not want anybody to know where he was. Your clouded thoughts had distracted you for most of your journey to The Burrow. Without realizing it, you heaved yourself up to the door and promptly knocked. 

Breathless, Molly swung open the door. She always seemed a tad bit frazzled when she answered but today, she looked even more so. You shrugged it off. “Oh for Godrick’s sake!” She wailed, arms wide open. “You know you can let yourself in, dear!” She sounded exasperated. You found this odd but still allowed her to wrap you into a bone-crushing hug, After your daily ritual, the two of you reentered the Weasley residence. By the time the door thudded shut behind you, you were already pulling your tart from the bag carefully. Molly was scurrying around, almost nervously. It was as though she was buzzing. You allowed her to go about her morning and let yourself into the dining room. To your surprise, all of the Weasley’s were up and huddled tightly around the table. Even Percy. Your eyebrows raised.  
“(Y/N)-” Ginny said, almost breathlessly. As if she were surprised to see you despite seeing you every single day for six months. You approached the table. “You’re here so early.” You got there at the same time everyday. She was normally asleep. “S-So mum told you then?” Ron jabbed her in the ribs with his elbow. She glowered at him. 

“Told me what?” You asked, curiosity piqued instantly. You set the tart onto the table as you asked this.  
“Clearly she hasn’t.” Hermione, who you hadn’t completely realized was there until now, stated. She didn’t visit nearly as often as you did. But she still came for Ron. You were surprised to see her here so bright and early. She met your gaze steadily and smiled shyly. 

“Again,” You reiterated with a small edge to your voice, “Tell me what?” It was much too early this morning to play games with you and they all knew that. Your question caused the flock of gingers and the wild haired girl to frenzy. They appeared to argue amongst each other. Their yelling was deafening compared to the polite silence that had filled the room moments before. It was as if your question was Pandora’s Box opening. You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, hoping to offset your oncoming headache. Could they ever just get along? 

“Shut up!” Ginny hollered over the commotion. The noise of the nagging siblings subsided considerably. There was a brief pause now. The tension in the room was so tangible you felt you could reach out and grasp it into your fist. You chewed your bottom lip nervously, suddenly aware something was amiss. Your first instinct was Arthur, who had struggled with health issues the past three months. Your worry itched inside your stomach. Ron looked like he was about to enlighten you before Molly had entered the dining room. Her face was stern, hands placed on her hips. She, too, looked like she wanted to tell you. You stood patiently before her.  
“Well, dear, we have been waiting for you to get here to share the news-” She was cut off by the sound of a swinging door opening. Every head in the room darted to look at the visitor. You also looked up to see who was coming in, expecting Arthur. Instead your gaze was met with a tall, thin frame you were very familiar with. Your entire body went slack - frozen to the spot. You couldn’t construct a single sentence, not even a word for the explosion in your stomach. 

George Weasley. 

Your eyes met. The deep chocolate brown you dreamt of every night he was away was finally looking back at you. For real this time. He looked as nervous as you felt. The desire to rush into his arms, to smother him with the love you had reserved for six months, the burning ache to close the gap that had kept you apart for so long - they all hit you straight in the throat. You felt as though you couldn’t speak. Based on the other people in the room, you were the only person there who did not know of George’s return. You felt frantic to get to him but your feet were rooting deep into The Burrow’s floorboards. 

He looked exhausted - like he hadn’t slept in the six months he had been gone. There were deep purple bags hanging beneath his eyes and his face didn’t light up in a grin. His expression remained solemn. Every feature on his face was tightened. You could hardly detect his smile lines. His eyes didn’t crinkle at the corners like they had once, whenever he laid eyes on you. You scanned his tousled ginger hair, surprised to notice odd flecks of black on the tips. You waited for him to say anything, to move even an inch closer to you. He stayed put. 

Your lips parted. Then closed. Finally, you spoke. “George.” It came out breathily. You had waited for so long for this moment. But it was panning out completely different than you had anticipated. You were practically begging him to come touch you, to hold you. For a moment, he looked as though he wanted to. Then looked like he’d rather step back outside the threshold of the door. It was clear he would not come to you. 

“(Y/N).” He stated, just as breathily as you had. His voice stirred a new motivation within you. If he wouldn’t come to you, you would close the gap yourself. You rushed across the room with your new found strength. Your arms wrapped around his neck. With his weird demeanor, you half expected him not to hug you. Relief flooded over you when he folded his arms around your back and pulled you close. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, grounding yourself in the familiar scent of your lover. He burrowed his face into your face and inhaled slowly.

“My head still isn’t completely straight, (Y/N),” he whispered softly. “But I am trying.” You wished he would indulge you in how much he missed you. So you could tell him how much you had wished for him to come home. You were content with what he said, happy he was there at all. You didn’t want to pull away from his tight grip, too engrossed in every little second you had missed with him for the previous months. 

His grip loosened first.


	2. Chapter 2

Shallow puffs of air escape from your lips. You try to move but you’re frozen to the ground with wide eyes as you gasp in complete fear. The cold melts from the ground up into your body. You’re going to die. This surely is the end. Your wand is five feet from your shaking hand’s grasp. You want to reach for it but you’re flattened to the ground. Everything hurts. You’re not ready to die yet. She draws nearer to you. Her wand is raised. The swish of it through the air sounds like the death march. Your gaze goes to meet hers - to look your killer dead on before taking a final breath. Even to lift your chin, you notice blood pooling off your chin. Your eyes shift. There is a blur where her face should be. A faceless death eater with a wand raised to kill you. 

You woke with a jolt. You sat up instantly. You wheezed, trying to suck in as much air as you can. Your shirt was stuck to your back, using your sweat to bind your skin to the cloth. Rich sunlight pooled onto your face and you remember where you are. You were not dead. You were at The Burrow, tucked neatly into George’s old bed. It seemed that the same horrific nightmare had crawled into your sleep. You rubbed your eyes and groaned. It was the same nightmare you lived with for the previous six months. Without fail, your eyes flickered and the faceless death eater advanced upon you. Like she had at the Battle of Hogwarts. 

Your hand scoured the side of the bed. It searched for George’s sleeping body. It was instinctive. As if your fingers were desperate moths seeking his light. Like the six months before, he was not beside you. You sighed and delicately slid the blankets off your legs. For just a moment, you forgot that George was home again. That he had, hesitantly, come to bed with you. You even forgot that your advances to kiss him were rejected. Your brows knitted together as you recalled last night. It dawned on you that George had woken before you and simply left you to sleep. 

You rose from the bed gingerly. You slowly swung your legs over the edge, dreading your barefeet and the cold floor meeting. To your disgust, you planted them onto the floor and a cold shiver coursed up through your body. You sat with the feeling of cold for a moment longer before standing up. Your arms outstretched and you shook the grogginess from your bones which was rewarded with a series of satisfying cracks. With that, you combed a hand through your hair and opened the bedroom door. 

You were greeted with all sorts of sounds - courtesy of the Weasley family. This did not come as a surprise to you. What did was that it hadn’t woken you first. You gathered your sense of enthusiasm, still slightly alarmed by the nightmare. It always left a fresh wound. You didn’t have time to mend that though. With your barings intact, you made your way down into the kitchen. The heart of the noise. 

You found a whole slew of people gathered there. Ron was seated at the table with Ginny, Hermione, and Harry Potter. You occasionally saw Harry but it was more likely that Ginny went to him normally. Besides Harry was, surprisingly, Percy. You were shocked he managed to stay the night. Standing not far from the table was Fleur and Bill who appeared to have just arrived at The Burrow. Their presence did not stir any surprise in you. However, when your eyes fell on Charlie, you were delighted and shocked. You quite enjoyed his presence. Then of course, Molly was busying herself and Arthur was chasing behind her. 

Then there was George. He sat quietly. Alone. His eyes were fixated on the clock. You looked at it. For the first time in six months, you saw that George’s picture appeared at home - with the rest of the family. You knew his eyes were not there though. They were locked on Fred’s picture. It laid in ‘lost’. Your heart sank. You watched him with a yearning that burned deep. You pushed aside any of your upset feelings. You couldn’t blame him for leaving bed. 

“(Y/N)!” You were interrupted by Molly’s delighted squeal. “You’re up! Merlin, I was beginning to worry. You’re quite the morning person.” She was simply beaming. You knew it wasn’t the same without Fred. But you also knew that Molly was just overjoyed to have her family all around her. You stepped into the crowded room.

“You should have woken me,” You just smiled at her. “Had I known you’d be so busy this morning, I would have gotten up to help.” She simply waved you off with a shaking head. 

“Goodness, dear, no! You do so much for me. For us. It’s no trouble.” She went back to busying herself with tasks, shooing you before you could assist her. You took your defeat and laughed under your breath. 

“Morning, (Y/N),” Charlie smiled keenly at you. It was your understanding that the both of you did understand each other. “Reckon it’s been awhile, How have you been?”

“Well,” You nodded with a smile. “I am happy to see you, Charlie. How have the dragons been treating you?” You could feel George’s eyes on you. You would be at his side in a moment. You did not want to come off as rude. 

“It’s the best,” Charlie assured you cheerfully. The atmosphere was abuzz with excitement and happiness. It was rare to have all of the Weasley’s under one roof. Especially George since his long absence. Charlie inserted himself into whatever Percy and Harry were talking about. You simply stood by yourself for a moment, still in all of the chaos around you. 

Your eyes met George’s. The eyes that you had wept for. You expected him to break your gaze and look away. He didn’t. You inched toward him. He reminded you of a frail fawn. If you moved too quickly he’d either freeze to the spot or dart. You didn’t want to risk the latter. Perhaps he didn’t want to be rude, though, because he remained in his spot. You lowered yourself into a seat next to him. “Morning.” 

“Good morning,” He looked at his hands. It was as if he was studying each and every tiny indent and crease there was. He fidgeted slightly. “How did you sleep?” As his mouth wrapped around the ‘ee’ in ‘sleep’, he looked back up at you. You looked back. You almost felt it would be wrong to tell him about the nightmare. Hell, he didn’t even know that you almost died in the Battle of Hogwarts. You had been cornered just moments before Fred went down. 

“It was fine,” You stated. “You?”

“Would have been fine,” He said, mustering some humor to his tone. “But Godrick, I never knew you were the type to toss and turn. I don’t recall you ever doing that.” That was because you hadn’t been the type to do so - before the war. You forced a little laugh. 

“I’m sorry I disturbed you, then.”

“Oh, not at all. I hardly sleep as it is.”

“Oh.” Your frown was prominent now. Your eyes caught sight of the odd flecks of black in his hair again but you didn’t wish to change the subject just yet. The two of you sat in silence. It lingered around you, encasing you into a bubble where the others’ noise did not infiltrate. 

“You can’t die,” George whispered suddenly. He stared at you so intently that it took you aback. He looked as though his lip was trembling slightly and his eyes were desperately soaking in every feature. Much like the final moment before he had left. Your brow knitted together in confusion. 

“What?” Your question seemed to allow George to surface from his intensity. His facial features relaxed but he was still frowning. He scanned your face. Then he blinked and shook his head. 

“I...I heard you talking in your sleep,” He admitted fretfully. It felt good for him to be worried about you. Even just for a moment. “You kept saying you were going to die.”

“Oh…Right. Bad dream,” You assured him with a gentle smile. “I am not dying.”

“What was it about?”

You glanced around the room. Nobody was paying you any mind. Harry was laughing at a joke Ron had made. Hermione and Ginny were chattering. Percy, Charlie, and Bill were all huddled together. Fluer and Arthur were examining a muggle object. Molly was happily tending the stove. Nobody was listening. Still, you’d rather not tell George here. 

“Want to step out into the garden?” He nodded. You both slipped out the back, undetected. The warm sun soaked on your face and left you feeling much better. You seated yourself in the grass. George remained standing. 

“A bad dream, then?”

“Yes,” You admitted and laid back into the earth’s comforting grasp. You left the sun beam down onto your bare arms and legs. You tried to remain casual. “It’s just a dream I’ve been getting for ages now.”

“What about?” George was hesitantly lowering himself into the grass.

“George…” You trailed off, unsure if you should give him this information. “Do you know...er...what happened to me? During the battle?”

“Something happened?” He was looking at you with confusion in his face.

“Well, besides the obvious.” The obvious being wounds. “I was cornered by a death eater.” This was the first time since telling your parents that you had to articulate this horror. Your throat thickened with anguish. 

“You were?” He sounded shocked. And hurt, too?

“I was. She was going...she was going to kill me. I was so close to being killed.”

“You fought her off?”

“No,” You shook your head. You met his eyes again. “Had it not been for Cho Chang, I would have died. She saved my life.” And you were forever grateful. Cho knew that. 

“Where was I?’

“Fred had just gone down.”

“Oh.” There was a deafening silence between you again. He was playing with a piece of grass that he had plucked from the earth. He winced when you had said his twin’s name. He frowned when the grass broke into two pieces. “I am sorry. That I wasn’t there. That must have been terrifying.”

“It’s okay,” You said softly. “I’ve already forgiven you. I dream of that, every night.” You hadn’t. But it would be easier if you had. 

“You know that I missed you, (Y/N)? Surely you know that?”

Your lips were turned down into a deep set frown. That statement had single handedly made your heart shatter. Because you didn’t know that he had ever really missed you. You knew that he was trying to get better. To heal. But he had left you behind, trusted you to tend to his family, and even wait for him. Yet, he never let on that he missed you. “Then why didn’t you write, George?”

“‘I love you’, would have been a good start.” You stated bluntly. You were so hurt. The words cut deeper than they should have. “Or maybe, ‘I miss you’. Or, ‘are you okay?’ Or, ‘I am safe’. Or, ‘I miss kissing you, holding you, being near’.” 

George stared at you with regret. His lips were parted but he didn’t utter a word. He simply stared at you. It left you with a familiar ache, a stinging just within the confines of your ribcage. You wished he would console you, wished he would apologize, wished he would do something. He looked genuinely stunned. A look you had never seen George Weasley wear. He looked as though you had just slapped him. 

You wanted to soothe him. To find the gentleness you were lacking. But it was too late. You had been honest with him. Just, too honest. You laid in the grass now. Your heart began to ache anew. 

“(Y/N)...I-I do love you,” He promised shakily. He all but begged you to look him in the eye. You tried not to. 

“How can I believe that when you will hardly look at me? You wouldn’t even let me kiss you.” Instantly, as if to prove his love, he inched toward you. He leaned in to close the gap between your lips. You shot up before he could. You scrambled to your feet. 

“What are you doing?” He stated, obviously confused. 

“I didn’t realize I had to make my boyfriend pity me to kiss me after six months.” There were tears beginning to well in your eyes. Your body seared with shame, with rage, with hurt, with the most intense heartache you’d ever felt. You stormed into The Burrow, up the stairs, and gathered your things. Molly asked why you had to leave so soon and you mustered a cheap response of “I forgot - my mum needs me today!”. You left the Burrow hurriedly. You marched down the street, tears flooding down your cheeks. 

George didn’t chase after you.


	3. Chapter 3

After you tore through The Burrow, as quickly away from the Weasley’s that you could, you spent the afternoon haunting Diagon Alley. In a last ditch effort not to fall apart, anyways. You found yourself weaving in and out every store there. Your feet began to tire between the distance of the apothecary and Flourish and Blotts. Still, you persisted. The sun had sunken low into the sky, which had morphed from blue to a rich orange and red. The beauty was remarkable. Your eyes fixated on it with awe. You stood in the middle of the walkway. Nobody bothered with you, just flitted past you. A cool wind traveled around you and you shivered slightly. 

The events of earlier had wisped away from your mind. You still felt vaguely upset but the type of upset that you could easily brush away. You glanced from the setting sun over to The Leaky Cauldron. You would reconcile the chill with a warm drink, you decided in a flash. You didn’t see many other options. You could go pace the floor of yours and twins’ apartment or return to The Burrow full of watching eyes. A drink, you reasoned with yourself, was easily the better choice. You pushed the door open and let yourself in. 

You were absorbed into cheerful murmurs and a mellow atmosphere. You approached a familiar staff member quietly. He smiled warmly at you, seeming to be in a cheerful mood to see you. Before the battle, Fred, George, yourself, sometimes Angelina would walk yourselves down to the pub and order Butterbeers. It was a frequent place for the lot of you. “(Y/N),” He said, retaining the warmth in his voice. “It’s nice to see you. Where’s your loverboy these days?”

You smiled weakly and shrugged. “He had family things tonight,” You lied. “Just me.”

“Well, just you, I am so happy to see you back. What can I get for you, dear? A butterbeer?”

“Dragon Barrel Brandy. Please.”

“You got it.”

“How much?”

“On the house, young lady. Go have a seat, I’ll bring it over when I get a second.”

You smiled, this time more genuinely. You seated yourself in an empty corner table of the pub. There were groups of pub goers gathered. Your head swirled with the sounds of their laughing and happy chittering. You didn’t mind sitting alone. Your mind escaped the clutches of the others in the pub amidst a fond memory:

At that very table, perhaps a year or more ago, sat Fred, George, Angelina and yourself. It was summer break for Angelina and you. The twins had since left the halls of Hogwarts for the likes of their joke shop. They’d invited Angelina, Lee Jordan, and you out the instant summer holiday let out. Lee had felt ill that night - which left you and Angelina, freshly graduated from Hogwarts. The twins insisted on celebrating despite the growing unrest in the wizarding world. 

You vividly recalled Fred’s wide smile split across his face and George’s head thrown back in laughter at something Angelina had said. The smell of sweet wine tickled at your nose then and the four of you had easily drunk two bottles worth. Even stronger than the smell, the four of you were dissolved to drunken giggle fits and stupid jokes. George’s arm had been thrown over your shoulder hastily. But you could feel the love radiating off him then. The feeling of his lips pressed to your neck as he laughed against your skin resurrected a dull ache in you. 

Angelina and Fred were very obviously enamored with each other that night. Perhaps it was the butterbeer or the years of unspoken desire for each other, but you and George had exchanged a knowing look. Then George and Fred exchanged and even more knowing looks. You glanced between the two with a drunken chuckle. Angelina glanced at you, warm in the face from the blushing and alcohol. You had watched George get to his feet, unsteadily, and excuse the two of you. He dropped an apartment key into his twin’s hand with a small wink and whispered, “All yours, if you need it.” 

The two of you departed out into the dark street. It had been lit so beautifully and the warm summer air danced around the two of your bodies. You both made your way with your arms linked for each other’s support. George was grinning. “He fancies her alright.” You nodded with delight. “And she fancies him.”

“And I love you,” He murmured, staring you in the eye. You smiled then. So overjoyed to finally be reunited with your love. After a dull year at Hogwarts, corresponding only between letters, it was nice to touch him. You didn’t recall how, but the two of you had staggered your way into an Inn. The anticipation to be alone with him was unbearable then.

The two of you collided together in your shared bed, laughing and croaking out silly things after the collision. Then you had laid there, basking in the moonlight that pooled into the Inn’s window. Just to lie in that bed with him was enough. But of course you hadn’t minded the kisses he planted all up your jaw and throat. Nor, his wandering hand exploring the curvature of your body… 

You were pulled from the flashback by the pub’s server placing a goblet in front of you. You looked up, blinked, and then smiled. “Sorry it took a moment, so rowdy in here tonight. Must be a full moon,” He grinned at you. 

“You are too good to me,” You stated gratefully. Then thanked him. He simply smiled even wider and wandered off to tend to other customers. You nurtured the goblet in both hands and looked at it’s contents thoughtfully. You lifted it to your lips, relishing in its cold lip against yours, and then took a large sip. The flavor ripped through your mouth and down your throat, leaving a fiery hot trail of alcohol behind it. Your shoulders sank from their tense resting spot. You simply sat, drinking quickly, and observed the other inhabitants. 

There were a few familiar faces there: Luna Lovegood and her father seemed to be out celebrating some achievement, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan appeared to be on a date, and you even noticed Lee Jordan, Katie Bell, and Angelina nestled in a corner laughing amongst themselves. They didn’t notice your gaze. You looked back down at the goblet to find it had emptied. Just as you moved to for a refill, your trusty server came and did it for you. You nodded appreciatively. 

You enjoyed your second helping with your head bowed. The brandy was strong. You felt yourself begin to sway. You would stop at four. Enough so that you could still manage to get yourself home to the apartment. You hoped George wouldn’t be there to welcome your brandy tainted breath home. But if he were home, you wanted to get it over with. You finished the brandy with a hardy swig and excused yourself from the pub without a single soul noticing.

The cold air prickled at your skin. Your steps were wobbly and uneven. You weren’t sure how the brandy had hit you so hard, but then considered your lack of drinking in the past month on top of your lack of meals. You focused all of your energy on arriving home safely. You did not trust yourself to apparate in your condition. So, step after step, you found your way back to the joke shop and the apartment on top. 

The effort you put into staggering up those stairs would have given both Fred and George the laugh of their lives. For a moment of selfish self-indulgence, you leaned up against the railing and sighed. The dizziness in your head didn’t fade and you swayed slightly. You knew it was so hard for George, for all of the Weasleys, but you missed Fred too. Perhaps not in the same way. After all, he hadn’t been your son, your brother, most definitely not your twin. But Fred had been your friend. The drunken stupor allowed you to swim in your grief as your fists clenched the railing for support. Fred was also, once, your roommate. You drank in the image of George and Fred pulling over their Weasley Christmas sweaters, doing a shot of firewhiskey, and then whisking off to The Burrow for Christmas. George had reached out to snag your hand but Fred had grinned back at you, too. You two had been friends, roommates, and to some extent...much like family. You had envisioned Fred as your favorite brother-in-law and he had always said that should be how it is. You frowned now, dizzied and alone in the staircase leading up to your apartment. The only thing to greet you is the hum of the lights. 

You nearly lost grip of the railing, your body’s wait leaning down back towards the bottom of the steps. You gasped - fear striking you. You were just about halfway up them. Your hand gripped even tighter, leaving your knuckles white under the pressure. You wobbled back more, unsure of how to regain the posture you’d normally have if you were sober. The sudden distribution of weight going backwards was what finally cut the connection between hand and railing. You fell back abruptly as gravity guided you down to your fate waiting at the bottom of the stairs. 

Your whole body tensed with anticipation. You knew that when you hit the floor - you’d instantly sober up from intense pain. You waited in freefall but you didn’t even hit a step on your way down. Your descent was abruptly stopped with an audible “ _ Ooof _ .” Your widened eyes whipped around. Shock replaced your fear. You were amazed that you didn’t just hit the cold, wet floor. Still, you couldn’t seem to distinguish what had stopped you either. 

“(Y/N),” A hushed voice cooed. It sounded very concerned. “Godrick, you smell like booze. You must be drunk.” 

The voice belonged to none other than George. You tried to steady yourself against his chest. You didn’t have much wiggle room because his arms were wrapped so securely around you. You looked up at him with a dazed look. 

“Oh, you’re definitely drunk,” He chuckled slightly. It was the most comforting sound in the world to you. You hadn’t heard him sound amused since he got home. It was enough to soothe you, despite your anger with him. “Alright, love, let’s get you to bed.”

You tried to push away from him. So he didn’t have to support your weight. He didn’t let you go and you didn’t quite detest when he guided you up the stairs. His hands were gentle on your waist but firm enough to keep you upright. By the top of the stairs, you felt confident you could make it into bed. George didn’t seem to notice though, as he scooped you up into his arms and carried you. Again, you didn’t exactly say no.

Somehow, he managed to cradle you to his chest and still get into your shared bedroom. Although, it had only been yours for six months. Your bed laid unmade from the day before. He was careful to lay you down slowly, so you didn’t hit the mattress with a thud. You laid there, staring up at him, dizzy with the alcohol streaming through your veins. He planted a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you,” He murmured earnestly. “I would now make up for that. But you’re just a bit too drunk for me to feel okay with that.”

You frowned at him. You didn’t argue though. You simply nodded, forgiving him. He pulled off your shoes and they thudded to the floor beside the bed. Then he helped you tug off your bottoms and top as well as undergarments. He didn’t stare or try to touch. He simply helped you into a large t-shirt you normally slept in. Then he wrapped you in his favorite blanket with a half smile. He sat beside your lying figure. “I missed you the most,” He stated in a soft tone. “Not the same way I miss  _ him _ , but I missed you. I just couldn’t come home until…”

You watched his face expectantly. 

“Until,” he continued hesitantly, “until I felt I could keep it together. I’m still working on it. But I promise...I’ll try harder to love you the way you deserve.”

You drifted off to sleep.


End file.
